


Je t'aime

by MxGeek



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know what I'm doing but it sounded nice, I hope it's still as devastating as it was when I proof read it last night, Lukanette, depiction of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22509955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxGeek/pseuds/MxGeek
Summary: The latest akuma attack lifted dust and made the floor rumble. Meanwhile, Luka was having another normal day, crossing Paris' streets on his bicycle, lost in his thoughts of their superheroes. He hoped the battle would be over by the time he got home.But however he imagined his "normal day" would go, he didn't actually expect Marinette to be in it. And he certainly didn't expect finding her the way he did.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95





	Je t'aime

That was supposed to be just another normal day.

Of course, the concept of a normal day in Paris was very different from other places. If you take into account the magical terrorist attacks that happened every twice a week – sometimes more, sometimes less. Usually more, because the universe is apparently an ascending comedian with quite the twisted sense of humour – and the (also magic) superheroes that swung around the city in an almost daily basis, Paris was pretty far from ever being normal. But honestly, you get used to it; you have to, unless you want the aforementioned magical terrorist to target you and your fear.

Sometimes people do fall victim to their own negative emotions, however. That’s when the akumas happen. That’s when Ladybug and Chat Noir enter the scene. They were the superheroes, the dynamic duo responsible for stopping super-villains, re-establishing peace across Paris and, occasionally, fixing some major security issues – crazy hero wannabes included. They were powerful, strong, invincible, _miraculous_ …

And Luka was just a guy on a bike. So obviously, he chose to stay out of the way once the latest akuma decided to wreak havoc on the streets. A quick detour from the centre of things should keep him out of trouble, right? But then, the “quick detour” ended up becoming a gigantic detour as the fight of the day heated up, and he couldn’t keep much further away unless he left Paris. You see, battling six versions of the same akuma took a much larger area than battling just one. It’s only reasonable that Ladybug and Chat Noir used a lot of space to take on six versions _each_.

That sure was a harsh battle.

Luka was once magic too. He got to be magic a few times, actually. As Viperion, he had the ability to call for a Second Chance. A powerful ability, he might add; one that, albeit very useful, demanded its bearer to be wise. So even if circumstances might never allow him to become Viperion again, Luka felt honoured that Ladybug deemed him the right person for the job. He was glad he got to be a superhero.

But right now, he was just a guy on a bike. And there was only so much he could do to help – or rather, there was only so much he could do to not make matters worse, and not throwing himself in harm’s way without a miraculous felt like a great starter.

There was a loud “crash” sound in the distance, followed by the quake of the floor and the screams of people. The centre of Paris was engulfed by light and filled with smoke that spread to the outskirts of the city.

Luka was all but hoping Ladybug and Chat Noir were alright; he was all but _praying_ his loved ones were alright.

The akuma’s name was Truth Digger. Whether it was a reporter desperate for a scoop or a person who had been lied to one too many times, Luka didn’t know. What he did know, however, was that the truth had many versions, and so did Truth Digger. And at the moment, all of those versions seemed set on uncovering people’s secrets, be it by stripping them of their disguises or by making them spill everything they previously kept to themselves; the akuma also seemed to have a knack for destroying things with what appeared to be a sword-like pencil – that wasn’t exactly the weirdest thing Parisians had seen so far, to be honest.

To fight an akuma worth twelve villains – unbeknownst to him, there were now sixteen of them – without ever being touched and having their identities revealed was a challenge Ladybug and Chat Noir hadn’t faced yet. It’s not that he didn’t believe in their saviours, but Luka had seen it before: Paris’ favourite superheroes, despite all of their might, were only human. They had feelings the young musician could translate into a more than a little chaotic melody.

 _Maybe_ they were invincible. But that didn’t mean they never felt the toll of it. So Luka wished the battle ended soon; if not for Parisians’ sake, then for their heroes’. And the universe had better keep its jokes to itself for another week, otherwise he’d be having a strongly worded conversation with it.

The blue-haired boy got off his bike and peered at his surroundings. He was in a more deserted part of the city now; there was nobody around except for him. Smoke and dust filled the air like a faint mist and the floor still rumbled from impacts far away. A flock of pigeons passed him by, trying to escape the noise, for even pigeons knew how to identify a threat. The wind made an eerie sound as it hit the dirty graffiti-filled walls, like it rehearsed to be the symphony of disaster.

Luka ignored the ominous atmosphere. He was fairly sure he would reach the Seine if he took a series of turns starting with the third street to the right. He would probably reach the Liberty before dusk and, if he dared be so hopeful, the akuma attack would also be over until then.

The boy was about to hop on his bicycle again and head off, but something made him stop. It wasn’t the tremors of the floor nor was it the pigeons or the wind. It sounded like footsteps. Very slow and dragging footsteps, accompanied by panting.

Despite his better judgement, Luka decided to put his bike aside and follow the noise before it died out in the distance. Of course, it could pretty much be a deadly trap – that was another thing you learned with time: you have to be careful with your surroundings, for even little butterflies held an unbelievable amount of danger in Paris –, but it could also be someone in need of help. Maybe he wasn’t a superhero right now, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t pay assistance if he could.

His own steps echoed along with the wind, and the boy hurried through the streets he barely knew how to navigate, his tuned ear guiding his way. Then he saw it: a short figure walked down an alleyway a few meters away. It stumbled about in a weak manner, each breath it took sounding extremely agonizing. It groaned in pain, and Luka quickened his pace as he heard a loud thud. He only stopped in his tracks once he looked at the path the stranger had walked on– it looked like sheet music written in red. Bloody footprints stained the floor; bloody hand marks stained the walls; there were splotches of blood here and there, and it all went on and on in what seemed to be an endless trail leading to wherever that person had come from. It looked like a horror movie scene.

A chill made its way up Luka’s back, and he was starting to doubt his ability to help out.

There in the alleyway, the person lied on the floor, bleeding out and quivering. The torn dark jacket went up and down slowly under the painful, deep breathing. Their pink jeans and once-white flowery shirt were stained red everywhere. Their dark hair was hanging loosely from two messy pigtails, and bluebell eyes struggled to stay open.

It hit him.

This wasn’t just a random horror movie Juleka put on to try and scare him. This was a nightmare. A true nightmare. It _had_ to be a nightmare…

The floor seemed to have disappeared under Luka’s feet, yet somehow he managed to trip his way over to her. There was such a major tug in his heart he actually felt like someone had pulled it out of his chest and stepped on it. Had he noticed he stopped breathing, he’d be gasping desperately for air. How does one keep level-headed again? Is it possible for a human mouth to go this dry?

However Luka imagined his “normal day” would go, it surely never included a bleeding-to-death Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

‘Marinette!’ he called. His hands were shaking, yet he touched her shoulder with most delicacy ‘Marinette, do you hear me?’

She responded with a low groan. Or maybe it was actually a mumble and Luka’s usual mumble translator was just broken under the panic that filled his mind. In anyway, he turned her around so she’d face up.

‘Can you understand me? Are you awake?’ He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. His hands immediately went to her sides to try and stop the bleeding; he soon found that she had already tried to take care of that. Despite it being soaked with blood, Luka recognized the beautifully patterned cotton scarf Juleka had on earlier that day. She did say she was going to give it back to Marinette at school.

_Oh God, was Juleka ok?_

‘Hey, Marinette! Talk to me!’ he called again, undoing the weak knot on her improvised bandages and tying it again more firmly. He could feel the deep, wide wound under it, and was quite sure skin and muscle were not the only things that were damaged.

‘Chat… Noir…’ Marinette murmured closing her eyes.

‘Hey! Marinette, look at me! Right, that’s right- keep your eyes open… What happened?’

While he waited for an answer, Luka reached for his phone to call for help. He could barely hide his horror and annoyance upon seeing that there was no signal at all – the absolute _perks_ of destructive akumas doing their thing, he thought with sarcasm.

The building anxiety he felt did Luka no good when he got up and felt his legs falter under his weight. He left the alleyway, looked around down the dust-filled streets. There was no one in sight, and half the windows of every house were shut tight; the other half was wide open to completely empty places. Luka wouldn’t discard the possibility of the akuma having wiped out the area of its residents.

The blue-haired boy went back to the girl in pigtails. He unconsciously reached for a guitar he didn’t have on him in an attempt to calm himself. In the brief seconds of silence that followed, Marinette blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the blurry in her vision.

‘Luka…?’

‘Yeah,’ said Luka, relieved she was conscious enough to recognize people ‘Yeah, it’s me. Don’t worry, we’ll get you some help…’

He wasn’t so sure, and he could hear it in his own voice. Mixed thoughts of fear and coldness swirled in his mind like ink on water. All Luka had were his bicycle – his guitar was in its basket, although he wouldn’t remember that – and his phone with no signal while a devastating akuma battle went on not far from them. He couldn’t call for help, but he couldn’t just leave Marinette there, either; he couldn’t possibly balance her on his bicycle in the state she was and, despite considering himself strong enough to carry the girl, he would be too slow to take her anywhere before it was too late.

_Meditation never prepared him for this! Oh God, what should he do?!_

‘W-we’re going to get you help, we’ll- I will-‘

‘Luka,’ Marinette cried hoarsely, and the boy was startled at her firm tone ‘The akuma...’

She held his wrist – cold. Her fingers were horribly _cold_ – and pulled it closer. Luka soon understood she was asking him to take whatever she had secured in her firmly closed hand. He held his palm open, and she dropped something on it.

_Her earrings._

_… Of course._

‘Don’t let them take it,’ Marinette said without taking her eyes off the jewels. Her breathing increased again, raspy against her throat. ‘Whatever you do, don’t let the akuma have it! Keep it safe, they can’t- you can’t let them-!’

‘I won’t,’ Luka reassured her, pointedly putting the pieces of jewellery inside the inner pocket of his jacket. ‘They’re safe with me, ok?’

‘Don’t let them even know you have it!’ she added as if his statement only worsened her worry ‘I-I don’t want them to hurt you!’

‘Marinette…’

‘They’ll be coming for the earrings, and then it’ll be the end! The end of _everything_!’ She winced at that ‘All because I couldn’t protect- I’m- they’ll finish me off and all I’ve ever done was-‘

‘Marinette,’ Luka intervened in a firm yet soothing tone. To keep that tone when he actually felt like yelling had to be a talent. ‘I promise I’ll keep your earrings safe. They are safe. _You_ are safe.’

‘Am I…?’ Marinette’s voice went suddenly so quiet and yet so anxious, Luka felt another tug in his heart.

The more he looked at her, the more painful it felt. She was pale – not like paper or chalk, but rather in a very ghost-like manner, especially in contrast with the strong red tinge of blood streaming down her lips. There were bruises everywhere on her visible skin and a particularly bad-looking black mark under her right eye; there was a trail of dry blood going down her neck from her dilacerated ears – those earrings certainly weren’t taken off the way they should. Her eyes had lost their usual brightness; they looked tired, afraid… but there was still something in there that could only ever be found in Marinette’s eyes.

 _Really,_ was _she safe?_

Luka noticed that the designer girl still had his wrist in her increasingly weak grip.

He held her hand.

‘You are’ He put on the softest, most tranquilizing smile he could manage. ‘You’re safe and nobody will hurt you… see?’ He squeezed her hand gently ‘I’m here.’

Marinette watched him for a moment and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, maybe force a smile or fake a soft giggle. She gave his hand a trembling squeeze in return.

‘I failed,’ she stated weakly.

‘No, you didn’t…’

‘I did. And I don’t want them to die because of that. I don’t want Chat to die because of that, I don’t want _you_ to die because of that…’

Marinette’s eyes filled with tears. Luka was at a loss for words. He wished he could play her something to make her happy. But he couldn’t.

‘Luka…’ she choked ‘ _I don’t want to die…_ ’

Marinette placed her free hand on her injured torso, seemingly ignorant of the pain that shot through her entire body; or perhaps too aware of it.

‘I don’t want to die! I don’t want to-!’

Keeping a soothing smile – a smile he was so used to keeping – seemed like a nearly impossible task. Maybe because he couldn’t bear seeing her distressed, maybe because he knew _why_ she was saying that, despite how untrue he wanted it to be.

Luka lifted the girl up as delicately as he could and shifted so she would be laying on his lap, cradled in his arms, head against his chest and her hand on his.

‘I know. It’s alright, Marinette,’ he murmured ‘I’m here. I’m here with you. It's alright…’

Marinette didn’t sob. She didn’t have enough strength in her to do so. There was just the harsh breathing and the slow stream of tears. Something inside Luka completely shattered, and he felt tears well in his own eyes.

When was it that he last cried? _Truly_ cried? He had a very faint memory of a day in the park, when he had fallen from a tree and broken his arm. He and Juleka were only kids back then, yet he remembered the tears only went on for a short while before he was smiling again; because, to Luka, his pain meant way less than seeing his sister panic for him. He knew Marinette was just the same.

‘I don’t want to go.’

‘You’re here right now, aren’t you? And I’m here with you. We’re both here, you see?’

She was simply the sweetest melody Luka had ever heard. She was the kind of person who would put others before herself and put herself in others’ place, even if it meant lowering her own volume.

She fumbled with her words and actions in a way that made for a very confusing set of notes, but she never meant anyone any harm.

She would try to do everything and a little more in order make the most of herself every day, which often sent her mental state for a worrisome crescendo. But she never backed down.

She was brave, but not fearless. And she was smart. And just. And funny. And kind. And sincere. She surely was a little miracle of her own, and there was so much she could still do…

The truth is that Marinette was powerful. She was strong. But she was not invincible.

Luka felt helpless. Hopeless. Death wasn’t something he was afraid of, neither were loneliness or silence. But his melody was fading away and the silence she left was the deadliest he’s ever heard.

 _And there was nothing he could_ _do._

‘I love you,’ he whispered.

It was a simple thing, and one he was so sure of, he almost felt selfish for letting her know now. It sounded like something he’d played for her before, albeit not with those exact same lyrics; those simple three words that didn’t really mean much more than what he had already said.

Luka was bad with words. So he played. And with so many options to take, “I love you” was the song he decided to go with.

He didn’t really expect Marinette to make it a duet:

‘I love you, too.’

He locked his gaze in her bluebell eyes. She looked at him with sincerity, even if between the tears that were still lingering from her lashes.

He wanted to be happy. He really did. Because in normal circumstances, he would be so, so happy. But then again, it would have been so much better had she never said anything, if it meant he could see her well. Ups and downs and well. Away from him, if she wanted, but well.

If there was ever a moment Luka wished to use a Second Chance, that moment was right now. But if he had the chance to be magic once again, could he have stopped it all before things got out of hand? If she allowed him to have a miraculous again, could he have been of use? Ladybug was the true heroine, not him. He was just a guy in a nightmare.

He should be wiser than that, shouldn’t he? He should be better than that, shouldn’t he? He should have helped her out, _shouldn’t he?_

‘Luka?’

It was her whisper that brought him back. She still looked at him, her eyes going in and out of focus. There was still something in there that he could only ever find in Marinette’s eyes, and Luka was afraid he was going to be the last one to see it. It didn’t feel fair.

He breathed deeply and gave her a gentle smile. He was a professional at that, even if his smile was a bit quivering, a bit sad. It didn’t matter. With his free hand, he brushed her bangs out of the way and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

‘You did really well, Marinette,’ he said.

Luka didn’t dare look at the girl anymore. He only held her and pressed her head against his chest, a soft hand on her hair. He could feel her smile for a second as her breathing quieted out and her grip on his hand became weaker, limp. As her melody came to a close.

It didn’t even get to be a full minute.

And Luka was left in the silence.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this for weeks now. A vicious cycle of "write a bunch, erase a bunch, give up, come back after a few days". Not fully satisfied with it yet, but eh, I gotta let go of perfection. I just wanted to write some sad angsty stuff, damnit.  
> I'm kind of leaving it open as to where in the timeline this is supposed to be set, because Miraculous is confusing.
> 
> Hope you liked it and do warn me if you found any mistakes! ^^


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